Diaper Dandy

I must admit that I dread nap time more than A. Don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't look forward to two hours of mommy-alone-time, which normally includes cleaning, straightening, meal-planning, and o.k., sometimes the occasional nap or mindless magazine. No, I dread the daunting task of getting A to actually fall asleep in her crib and stay there. Yes, I have a confession to make.... after two years, I still need help getting A down for her nap. Either the rocker, if we're home or the car, if we're on the way home from T's office. What I don't undertand is why dad can lay her down in the crib with nary a peep. My mother-in-law and mother can also do it. But me, nope, not a chance. When I try, A is transformed into a shrieking, thrashing toddler-beast unwilling to be calmed.

But today is going to be different. Today is the day Mom is going to stand strong and not run back into the room to comfort, rock, or hold crying A. Yes, today, today will be the day that I place A gently in the crib, softly say, "night, night" and never look back. (Can you hear the dramatic super-hero music, too?) A's cries will no longer be my kryptonite.

And that is just what I do. After lunch, A and I walk up the stairs hand-in-hand to her darkened room. I strain through the dim light and manage to read one pre-nap book, while gently rocking my girl. I then lay A in her crib with Cookie and Puppies and walk out of the nursery. A immediately stands up and begins to cry. "Night, night," I say from beyond the crack in the door. "Mommy is going downstairs."

"Downstairs?" she asks in a small, whiny voice.

"Night, night."

"No night, night," she counters.

I close the door, tip-toe downstairs and begin to mop the kitchen floor. A's cries soon fade to silence. A few minutes pass and no sound. I've done it. She's napping; I'm cleaning, and it only took five minutes. I walk to the office and decide to take a peep on the monitor. My shoulders slump as I watch my short-lived moment of victory turn quickly to defeat. A isn't sleeping. No, she's standing and dancing in her crib. Is that her victory dance? "Mommy can't make me sleep," I imagine her saying while chuckling that dastardly cackle from the cartoons. I'm certain she's rubbing her hands together, concocting some plot to destroy nap time forever.

"What should I do?" I think to myself. What would super-mommy do? I'm sure I do the exact opposite because I walk back upstairs to her room. She smiles and points, "Mommy." I must admit; it is nice to always be treated like a celebrity.

"You're supposed to be napping." I notice a diaper in the floor. How in the world did she reach the diapers? I wonder. Defeated, I pick A up and get ready to either rock her or drive her around the neighborhood. Then I notice her hiney is as bare as the day she was born. "A!" I half-whisper, half-shout, "Where is your diaper?"

She giggles and points to the, thankfully, clean diaper in the floor. "Diaper," she says proudly.

"A, that is not funny."

A giggles louder and lifts her dress to show off her bare bottom. She's so proud to have stripped her way out of nap time. (I really hope this is no indication of aptitude for a certain career.) For fear that I am about to be victim to a quick sprinkle, I lay her in the floor and grab the diaper. She looks up and smiles. "Mommy, no diaper."

"I know, baby, no diaper." Suddenly, I do what no parent should ever do in the face of defiance. I erupt uncontrollaby into giggles. I mean, come on, you must admit this is pretty funny stuff and rather clever. Of course, this means, that A will now attempt to foil all nap times by removing her own diaper, but I'll figure that out later. Right now, I have to go warm up the car....